Good Oft Interred
by StinkyJeans
Summary: Following the events of Brotherhood, Ed is accused of murder, and he and Al are sent on a race across the globe to stop a threat more ancient than even the philosopher's stone.
1. Chapter 1

_**This is a fan-based work. Many of the characters and concepts are intellectual property of Hiromu Arakawa and some other people. As far as this author is aware, the aforementioned intellectual property is being employed under fair use. Please contact the author if there are any questions or concerns about that.**_

_Who else thinks that Brotherhood deserves a well-executed spinoff series? Some think that it couldn't possibly be cool since *SPOILER* Edward Elric can't do alchemy anymore. /spoiler. To that I say, "Nay!" Batman doesn't need superpowers to be awesome and neither does Ed! _

_**GOOD OFT INTERRED**_

_**Prologue**_

"Rest assured we have nothing to do with this." General Mustang gritted his teeth and pressed the phone to his ear. His staff flocked around his desk.

"Yes, I was once in charge of him. That's why Fuhror Grunman sent you to me. Like I said, the Fullmetal Alchemist was discharged three years ago."

A barking voice rang from the other end of the line. The group cringed, but Mustang cocked an eyebrow.

"Call it whatever you like, Minister, but I'm standing by my statement...No, I am not asking for war! I'm gathering some damage control as we speak. Alright. Good day."

The staff collectively sighed as General Mustang hung up the phone. He gazed down at his desk. The battle against "Father" had once blinded him. The philosopher's stone had been nearly spent on Havoc's recovery by the time Mustang was willing to use it to regain his eyesight. It was a wonderful thing, being useful again, but now he felt so helpless.

"Fullmetal just might have turned our western skirmish into a full-blown war." Mustang leaned his head on his fist. "And we were making so much progress with Creta."

"Elric's not a soldier anymore," said Major Hawkeye. "We're not accountable for his actions."

"They don't know that! Outside Amestris, he still has his reputation as State Alchemist! Ugh." Roy Mustang pulled at his hair. "The only way we can save face now is if we denounce him."

"What?" Lieutenant Ross gasped. Her severe ear-length haircut belied her gentle nature.

Hawkeye drew a long breath. "If we were to denounce him, we would be telling the Creta government that we have nothing to do with Elric's actions."

"Yeah, but what would we do with Edward? They'd expect us to follow through-hunt him down, hand him over!" Ross yelled. "They could put him to death!"

"Of course they would," Mustang lifted his head from his hands. "They want retribution for that dead kid."

"You don't think that he-"

"Of course I don't!" Mustang spat. The group slightly recoiled.

Mustang sighed, and leaned back in his chair. "The setup was too perfect...our old state alchemist on the hunt for one of their alchemists...Their guy's kid gets killed, another boy goes missing...and Fullmetal runs off in the middle of it." The general scowled. "Way too suspicious."

"Edward's behavior, or the setup, sir?" Captain Falman asked.

Mustang scoffed. "Both. That dumb kid got caught in the middle of things again. Maybe I should put him under house arrest."

"Well, what do we do?" Feury asked, pushing up his glasses.

"I think we should tell Edward what he's started." All eyes turned to Hawkeye.

"We've tried shielding him from the truth before, and we know how well that worked out," she argued. "It's about time we started recognizing that he's an adult."

"Do you want to put a whole war on his conscience?" Lieutenant Ross furrowed her brows.

"He started this whole dilemma, and he knows what's going on better than we do." Hawkeye folded her arms. "He might be able to help us out."

Everyone in the room was silent for a moment.

Finally, Lieutenant Breda scratched his sparse beard and voiced everyone's thought.

"This isn't going to be pretty."

**End Prologue**

_Now I think I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that you came here for some good 'ol Team Ed sexy time! That's what fanfiction is all about, right? Well, not to fret, Edward's on his way! Sexytime? Mmm...probably not. _

_But you know what is sexy? Writing critiques! Suggest better wording, better action/description, and what you would like to see happen in this story. This fanfic has been lovingly enhanced by top beta readers, but let's not stop there!_


	2. Last Week pt 1

_Hey, I'm back for more. Thanks for the feedback. Now, I'm taking a lot of creative liscence for Creta's history, politics and culture. I drew some information from the wiki and the show, and used some history for inspiration._

_I'll be introducing some OCs in this chapter. Being in a new country and all, the story kind of mandates that a new cast go along with it. My number one rule about OCs, is that they don't take over the story. This story is about the Elric brothers, and you can sleep soundly tonight with that knowledge._

**Last Week pt. 1**

A bump on the railroad jolted Edward Elric awake. He rubbed his eyes and peered at the dark gray landscape of Creta. He checked his watch-it was noon. The cold seeped through the thin train walls and condensation built on the windows. Beginning to dread however many weeks he would have to spend in this damp dreary country, Edward reached into his suitcase and pulled out the book, _Natural Alchemy_, that he'd retrieved from the rebuilt Central Library. It showcased strange and fascinating insights into alchemy and the human body. With alchemy, Cretan doctors could instantly heal and graft skin, and repair organs-processes usually too intricate and delicate for Amestrians to master.

Winry had counted on Edward staying in Resembool permenantly. Back in Central, everyone bit their tongues when Edward told them why he was heading for Creta. They didn't dare tell him, but Edward could tell they were thinking it-he couldn't do alchemy anymore, so what was the point in still pursuing it?

Edward exhaled sharply and stared at the book cover. It listed two authors: Alexander Modred and Roderick Maddox. His search for Doctor Modred gave him nothing, but Professor Maddox had a home town listed in his credentials. It was all Edward had and hopefully all he needed to find out how to reverse-engineer the biology of human chimeras, and hopefully give them their lives back.

In a few hours, he made it to Professor Maddox's home-town, Harvey's Port, and found himself at the door of the Maddox residence, face to face with an adolescent boy.

"Hey, is Roderick Maddox home?" Edward shivered, pulling his jacket around his shoulders.

The boy flared his nostrils and stuck out his chin. "He doesn't live here!" And he slammed the door.

A bizarre reaction, Edward thought. Fog from Harvey River spread over the flat valley, and a light but freezing rain coated Edward's skin.

He sniffed. A cold was already coming on. Edward shoved his fists in his pockets and headed down the pathway. He would probably have to snoop around a warm tavern for gossip.

"Sir?"

Edward turned around. A woman stood in the doorway. Her hair was dark and black, and her face showed few signs of aging.

"Forgive my son's rudeness. Please come in."

This would be interesting.

Edward walked back to the house, climbed the steps, and stepped through the door. The house was warm and well-lit. Simple, but certainly not modest. The thin boy peered from behind his mother at Edward. He couldn't be any older than twelve.

"Arawn, take the young man's jacket." The woman tightened her lips at her son.

"Oh, that won't be-" Edward felt Arawn yank his coat off, and almost take his arms with it.

"You must be freezing. We'll get you some tea. Come." The woman beckoned Edward in and Arawn shut the door.

"I'm Mrs. Fiona Maddox, and you've met Arawn."

Edward nodded politely as they stepped into the main room. "A...pleasure to meet you." He frowned. He couldn't tell yet if he was lying or not. "I'm-"

"Haww!"

Edward jumped. A teenage girl fidgeted wildly in her plush wheelchair. She waved clumsily at Edward, and her lopsided smile was unsettling. She wore a frilly purple dress that overwhelmed her tiny frame. Her pale pigtails hung limp on her shoulders.

"What?" Arawn scowled. "You've never seen a cripple before?"

Edward bit the inside of his cheek, tempted to tell that kid that at one point, he was a cripple.

"Arawn," Mrs. Maddox gritted her teeth. "Tea." Arawn retreated, presumably to the kitchen.

"Please, sit down."

Edward sat on the sofa, and Mrs. Maddox set herself down next to him.

"So I understand you were inquiring about my husband, Mister…?"

"Elric. Edward Elric, ma'am."

A wheezing laugh burst from the girl. Edward jumped.

"Settle down, Bridget," her mother said tenderly before turning back to Edward. "And what did you wish to see my husband for?"

"I have a few questions about his research in alchemy."

Mrs. Maddox's smile vanished. The room was silent for a moment and even Bridget was still. Mrs. Maddox leaned forward. "Do you realize the nature of his research, Mr. Elric?" She asked softly.

All Edward knew was the book that Roderick had co-written. It was a medical breakthrough. Something told him, however, not to mention it. He suddenly felt very unwelcome.

Arawn came into the silent room with a tray of tea. He unceremoniously plunked it onto the coffee table.

"Regardless," Mrs. Maddox continued. "Roderick left years ago, and I haven't seen a single shred of his research. I'm sorry."

Edward nodded, and quickly poured a cup for himself. "Where did he go?"

Mrs. Maddox shrugged. She didn't seem to consider her husband's disappearance much of a loss.

Edward doused the scalding tea in sugar and cream, and drank it in two gulps. He didn't want to linger anymore.

"Well, thank you Mrs. Maddox for your help. And I'm sorry I bothered you, but I'd better go now."

"Not at all. Best of luck." Mrs. Maddox smiled insincerely.

Bridget howled and pounded on her armrest.

"Arawn, take care of your sister."

Edward stood up and made his escape. Only when the front door closed behind him did he pick up his speed and head to town.

Not a single townsperson could tell him Maddox's whereabouts. Most of them didn't even know for sure what he did for a living. Disappointed, Edward made his way to the inn. He checked in, dragged his feet to the room, and collapsed on the felt bedding. His first day out on Creta, and he had already run into a dead end. He kicked off his shoes and stared at the ceiling. The inn was warm, thawing him out. His eyelids grew heavy.

"Big brother?"

He wanted to stop thinking, just for a moment.

"Little-big brother?" The room melted away to the big chocolate eyes and the long braided pigtails. Edward could hear a large dog barking. The small girl whizzed by and in an instant, was gone.

"Nina?"

"Where's Alexander?" A hollow male voice echoed. "Where did that old dog run off to now?"

Edward felt his insides boil at the memory. "Tucker! Where are Nina and Alexander?"

A chimera stepped out of the darkness. It was large, canine in appearance, with long chestnut hair growing along its back. "H-help..." it moaned. Edward stumbled forward, reaching for it. He fell through the floor, screaming as the chimera rose further and further away.

The chimera had long dissappeared into the blackness by the time Edward landed, somehow softly, on a granite cavern floor.

"Welcome to heaven,"

Edward spun his head around. A middle-aged woman, dressed in red, spread out her arms.

"This is heaven?" Edward asked, eying the cave's red-hot glare.

"You did your research on Creta mythology, didn't you?" she withdrew her arms. "It's about five hundred years outdated, but if you recall, I am Twyla, the barbarian-goddess of the underworld. I welcome the deceased back into the earth-mother's womb."

Edward scoffed and tried to feign a casual air, shoving his hands into his pocket. "So I dream about this mumbo-jumbo?"

"I pull the buried remains of the dead back into the center of the earth where they were conceived, granting eternal warmth and comfort."

"What does that matter to me?"

"Whether you believe in them or not, the gods are called when you need them." She stepped aside, and held out an arm to present. His mother stood behind Twyla.

Edward looked down. "Stop it."

"Isn't she why you came here? Don't you miss her?"

"I dream about her enough!" Edward pulled his hair.

Lines creased through Twyla's face. She looked pained. "I want to help you."

"I don't need your help!" Edward's voice grew hoarse.

Twyla stepped back. Her form transmuted. The red dress dissappeared, the brass hair, the skin...until a blank white sillouette stood in front of Edward. It had no facial features except a large demented grin. And it posessed one human leg. Edward's l

"I am whatever you need me to be, Edward Elric." The Truth leaned towards Edward.

The cavern walls disintegrated. Edward found himself in that familiar blank whiteness. He sensed the gateway open behind him, and the shadowy arms pull him in. Truth waved him goodbye.

"And trust me, you will need me a whole lot."

_Knock, knock._

Edward's eyes blinked open. His whole body felt moist with sweat, and a foul taste filled his mouth.

_Knock, knock_. "Mister Elric?"

The ceiling came into focus, and Edward wiped the moisture from his eyes.

"Coming," his voice cracked as he rolled out of bed. He opened the door, and the inkeep greeted him.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, sir. You have a phone call."

A phone call? Perhaps it was Winry. Normally he would have jumped at the chance to talk to her, but right now he didn't feel like it.

Edward walked to the front desk and the innkeeper handed him the telephone.

"Hello?"

"Oh good, you're still here. Mister Elric, this is Arawn Maddox." The boy didn't seem happy at all that he was there. "My sister Bridget wants a word with you."

Edward knotted his brows. Bridget, the kid who spent the whole meeting swaying and howling from her wheelchair? "About what?"

"I don't know." Arawn sighed. "Just...meet us at the old telegraph office. The inn-keep will tell you where to find it." Before Edward could open his mouth, Arawn hung up.

Edward put the earpiece back in the cradle.

"Good news, I hope?" The innkeep asked cheerfully.

Edward shrugged. "Hey...you know Bridget Maddox?"

The innkeep's smile dropped, then returned softer and warmer.

"Yeah. Poor kid. What about her?"

"She can't talk, can she?"

"No..." the inkeep shook his head.

Edward furrowed his brows.

Only an oak desk sat in the back-room of the telegraph office. It had an old telegraph, thin rolls of paper, and a small printing device. Arawn pushed Bridget to the desk. Bridget held out her thin arm and tapped rhythmically on the telegraph. Arawn listened intently to the taps.

"But why?" Arawn lowered his eyebrows.

Bridget tapped again on the telegraph.

"No, you won't bore me. I want to be here."

Bridget swatted the air and tapped more.

"Fine." Arawn scowled and stomped towards the door. "If you think you can handle it, be my guest." He snapped the door shut behind him.

Bridget grunted and reached for the printer. It took a few tries, but she managed to flip the switch. The machine wheezed. She motioned Edward to a chart on the table. It was to translate code.

What did Bridget possibly have to say? Clearly Arawn could translate code by ear, so why did she want him to decode it himself?

Bridget tapped away, and it seemed like hours. A few times she would stop to take a rest, as Edward stared at the growing roll of printed paper.

At long last, she was done. She turned the machine off, and Edward rolled up the printed code.

"I'll probably be back sometime tomorrow," Edward said, grabbing the chart. He realized it was the first time he had spoken to Bridget directly. That he had considered her an adult fully capable of communicating and reasoning.

He stepped outside where Arawn was waiting. "You're done?" The boy asked. "You know, I only did this because Bridget heard of you. She has a thing for alchemy, and all." He went in to get Bridget. Edward pocketed the code and headed back to the inn.

Edward spread out the chart on his floor and grabbed a pen. This decoding was simple and menial, but lengthy. He looked at the dashes and dots, connecting them to the patterns on the chart. He wrote, letter by letter, the decoded message:

_Mr. Elric, I'm thrilled to meet you. I admire that you use alchemy to help people. I know it's presumptuous to ask so soon, but I need your help now. My little brother Mandred has been missing for a month now, and I think Roderick took him. It has to do with his research. It's here in the house. Mandred found Roderick's journals under the squeaky floorboard in the library years ago. Mum and Arawn don't know. I don't want them to know. Mr. Elric, please try to save Mandred, and please destroy those journals as soon as you can._

"Destroy them?" Edward set down his pen. What in the world was in those journals? And what did this research have to do with Roderick kidnapping his own son?

He decided that he would waste no time visiting the Maddox house once more.

The window was left ajar. Edward climbed the oak tree and pushed it open. Gingerly, he stepped into the Maddox house. Sure enough, this was the family library. He tiptoed around the room for a moment, then finally, found the squeaking floorboard. He pulled out his hammer, yanked the loose nail from the board, and opened it up.

A dusty book was found right underneath, just as Bridget had said. He lifted it to find more beneath, probably around 30.

He silently set the book on the table, lit by the moonlight, and blew off the dust. He flipped it open to a random page and was greeted with an abstract.

_Puck, 1884. Born to Marie. Natural genetics would dictate high intelligence and social charisma. Physical attributes would be unfortunately mediocre. I exposed Marie to small amounts of alchemic red water. Effects were barely, if at all detectable in Puck from birth to six years. Continual exposure to the red stone from age six to ten resulted in short-term physical enhancement but long-term respiratory deterioration. Died November 1907 of severe bronchitis._

Edward's jaw hung.

"It's just like Nina," Ed breathed. He grabbed fistfuls of his hair. "What the hell is wrong with these men?"

END CHAPTER

* * *

><p><em>And that's it for now. Stay tuned, folks. And let me know if I suck or not. I know my description skills are a little...lacking. Any tips or advice would work wonders!<em>


	3. Last Week pt 2

_So… I ran out of computer space and decided to buy a new usb and transfer everything on. I then proceeded to lose it all in the very same hour! So I did a rewrite, brought on and inspired by hours of batman episodes and my roommates' America's Most Wanted marathons. But it led to cutting a bunch of tiresome scenes and speeding up the story. And it just me or do fan fictions lack action?_

**Last Week pt. 2**

The last entry was from six years ago. Mrs. Maddox's story checked out. The contents had a detailed explanation of every skeleton in the professor's closet: two dead wives, two dead sons, and two ill surviving children, all because of Roderick Maddox's poisonous experiments. Bridget was severely handicapped, and Arawn suffered from a weak heart.

That left the one missing boy, Mandred. Roderick's last journal entry was shortly after the boy's birth. It simply said that he was "promising."

Edward gritted his teeth, snapped the book shut and stuffed it into his bag. As awful as it was, he finally had his lead. The journals were stuffed with letters between Professor Maddox and Dr. Alexander, providing him with the doctor's address. So he packed up early this morning and bought a train ticket to Cretua, Creta's capitol. It was eight 'o clock, and the boarding would start in half an hour. He sat on the steel bench out on the deck.

And that's when and where it happened.

"Over there!"

Edward looked up. A small gang of local men-armed with various garden tools-pointed in his direction.

Edward went numb, and his eyes went round. "What's going…?"

The men charged.

Edward gripped his suitcase and bolted down the street. Townspeople screamed and tried to block him. He shoved a burly blacksmith from his path.

"What's with you people?" He screamed, looking over his shoulder.

Just in time, he ducked from the path of a kitchen knife. Edward leapt over a water barrel and bolted through an alley. At the other side waited more angry townspeople.

"Hey, laddie!" A female voice called. "Over here!"

Edward peered back into the alley. A young woman waved him over, holding open a cellar door. Against his better judgment, Edward jumped in. The woman followed and shut the door behind her.

A bit of dull light peeked through the crack in the door, illuminating the choppy hair around her jaw and her dusty attire.

"Yer the belle of the ball, ain't ye?" She grinned.

Edward dusted his jacket. "What's going on?"

The woman peked through the crack. "There's been a breaking and entering, and the locals don't take too kindly to that. Do ye know anythin' about it?"

Edward turned his head to hide his surprise. He was positive nobody saw him go into the Maddox library. "No," he lied.  
>He felt cold hard steel press against his skull, followed by the click of metal.<p>

"I think ye do, Mister Elric, and I bet ye have something to do with the dead Maddox girl."

* * *

><p>"Smotherman!" Minister Robin Loxley fitfully sipped his morning Earl Grey. "What's this about the Amestrian in Harvey's Port?"<br>His intern secretary blew a strand of copper-colored hair from her face, and read from her clipboard. "According to the local innkeeper's testimony, the man's name is Edward Elric, about eighteen years old, five feet, three inches, and approximately ten stone. The local commissioner will fax the sketch and profile shortly."

"Yes, yes. So what happened?" The minister scratched his basset hound's head. His sinking face gave him remarkable resemblance to that dog.

"Last night at one twenty- three, he was spotted climbing from a window of the Maddox residence by a neighbor. The next morning, Bridget Maddox (fifteen years old) was found beaten to death in the family library. Severe head trauma, most notably a large dent into her skull inflicted with a brass bookend." Her arched eyebrows shot up at that. "The neighbor's description was confirmed by the innkeeper, who identified Mr. Elric. Police and a number of head-hunters are after him." Smotherman paced around the office, wandering from the fireplace, to the bookshelves, all the way across between the minister's lush chair, his large oak desk, and the enormous window.

Loxley scowled. "Smotherman, stop fidgeting."

"Yes, sir." His secretary, with great difficulty, planted her feet to the velvet floor.

"Now I want you to keep me posted on this case."

"Yes, sir. Um…"

"Problem, Smotherman?"

Smotherman bit her lip. "I'm just wandering why. Is a local murder case a national issue?"

Loxley set his jaw and peered out the window. "It is when it happens in the Cretua province. This isn't a squabble between tribal barbarians, Miss Smotherman, this is the murder of a retarded girl, by an Amestrian. And Amestris will have to answer to that."

* * *

><p>"Ye were seen leavin' their house last night," The woman murmured in Edward's ear. "And that makes ye the prime suspect."<p>

"Bridget…?" Edward panted. "She can't…!"

"Oh, she can. I saw her me-self. She's very dead right now, no thanks to ye."

"Then," Edward's mind raced and he stared at the dusty floor. "Why did you bring me-"

"A couple of reasons, actually." The woman said offhandedly. "Ye can relax, I don't intend to dispatch ye me-self. I took the liberty of examining that there crime scene, and the way those blows landed on her, yer way too short to have dealt 'em."

Edward felt his insides boil. "Then why do you want me-"

"Hang on," The woman tapped her gun against Edward's head, and he instinctively raised his hands. "I want ye to find the man who killed the girl. Yer accomplice, no doubt."

"If I knew, I swear I'd tell you." Edward tried to turn around, only to feel the woman press in the gun. "How could somebody kill a kid like Bridget? She can't even walk!" He heard his voice crack.

"Ye answer me," The woman insisted. She yanked Edward's shoulder and turned him around. She stepped back and kept her gun on him.

Edward looked her up and down. Her loose trousers comically accented her short legs and her wrists stuck out inches from her sleeve cuffs, giving her monkey-ish proportions. "Who are you?"

"A detective."

"For who?"

"None of yer business, that's who." She sneered.

"Than what do I call you?"

The woman recoiled. "That's rude, asking the name of a lady ye don't even know!"

Edward blinked. "Did I miss something?"

"Ye don't just give out yer name to strangers," The woman rambled. "Ye don't know what they're goin' to do with it!"

"Okay!" Edward exhaled sharply. "I don't know anything, but I'll help you find him if I can."

"That's a good laddie." The woman grinned and grabbed his elbow. "And for now, ye can call me whatever ye like."

"Okay…" Edward's eyes wandered to the newspapers lying on the floor. A headline said something about some Sean Charlie. "…Charlie."

The woman dragged him through the building and cocked an eyebrow at him. "Not the creative type, are ye?"

Edward scowled.

"Fine," the woman shrugged. "Call me Charlie."

* * *

><p><em>Okay, so that's probably an awkward way to end a chapter. And a really, really stupid reference to my username. But you know what isn't awkward or stupid? A review! Do you like this new cast, or do you think they're annoying? Do you like my plot twists, or are they kind of M. Night Shamalan-y? I don't know until you tell me!<em>


	4. A Most Dangerous Game

**Yeah, so for a while I thought folks weren't too interested, so I decided to dedicate more time to learning about computers and crap. But then, there was somebody who came across this little story, and added it to their alerts. I took the hint, and now I'm back, baby! **

"How far is the ferry?" Edward checked his watch for the fourth time. He swore he would never get used to how dark and overcast it was in Creta, even at midday.

He could hear Charlie grind her teeth for a moment as she tore through the thicket. She'd been impatient for the past two days. An empty bottle hung sadly from her belt. Out in the country, the smell of brandy faded as her mind-and tongue-grew sharper.

"'Bout 7 miles south," she quipped.

Edward squinted, trying to see the far banks through the fog. According to Charlie, the Ollion province was straight across the river. "What's in Ollion, anyway?"

"Easy hiding." Charlie shoved a branch aside. "If ye survive the wild folks there, ye'll have a chance of dodging the search parties. And I figger our killer knows that. So where is he, laddie?"

Edward shook his head, and ducked under the branches. "I don't have any real leads. I just know Bridget's father and brother disappeared some time ago."

"Ah, so that's why ye was snooping around that night." Charlie turned her head and smirked. "Yer a little detective too,eh?"

Edward grit his teeth. "'Little?'"

Charlie cocked an eyebrow. "Find anything?"

Edward hesitated. He could guess that whoever killed Bridget could be after him now-he knew too much at this point. He decided it was wise not to tell Charlie what he found: how to engineer the perfect human being.

"Just some letters to an associate, Dr. Modred." He finally confessed.

Charlie twisted her red-painted mouth to the side. "Not much to go on. But maybe our good doctor knows something too. What's the address?"

"White-Shutter Estate, somewhere called Victorville."

"Huh? Victorville!" Charlie's eyebrows shot up. "That wouldn't be the Victorville in the Seafut province!"

"Are there any other Victorvilles in Creta?" Edward scowled.

"Cool yer engines, laddie. I only say that Victorville is a long ways away. 500 miles west, in fact, right on the sea-border. Last place I'd expect a doctor to live, really."

"Why do you say that?"

"It's a war-zone, and whatever doctor goes there dies or comes back in a month. The tribes over there are good at two things: breeding and killin'."

"Well, it looks like we don't have a choice," Edward stopped leaned back against a wild oak. He rubbed the squeaking joints on his leg. This damp weather wasn't doing him any good. "Whatever slim chance it is, Doctor Mordred might know something about Professor Maddox."

"So where's the old professor and junior, then?" Charlie stroked her chin. "Let's make a little story: Professor Maddox has some valuable information, being a learn-ed man and all. Someone wants his talent. So they kidnap him. When he refuses to help, they kidnap his boy. When he tries to call their bluff, they kill his little girl. Maybe then our good Doctor's in trouble too."

"That's the only theory I can come up with." Edward shrugged. "Why else would someone kill a person like Bridget?"

"Yeh," Charlie chuckled. "It's not like she would spill any secrets."

Edward lunged. His arm shot forward and he gripped Charlie's collar. He pulled her face inches away from his.

"Shut up. Now."

He let go and Charlie stumbled backwards. She masked her shock with a crooked grin. "Something ye need to learn about Creta, laddie. Learn to laugh at death, or death'll catch up with yeh."

* * *

><p><em>Dear Al,<em>

_First, to answer your question about me an Winry, IT'S NONE OF YOUR DAMNED BUSINESS! But things are doing all right. She saw me off before I headed to Central. I've spent a couple weeks in the library, but it didn't have too much to say on western practices at first. But I was lucky and ran into this book called "Natural Alchemy." It was written by two experts over in Creta. __Professor Maddox and Doctor Modred have actually used their alchemy to remove tumors and even replicate limbs! Wouldn't that have come in handy a few years ago?_

_Funny enough, I don't miss using my alchemy that much. I think about the chimeras, and the hommunculi. Sometimes I even think of what we did to mom, and what I did to you. Because of that, I wonder about Alchemy sometimes. Would we all be better off without it?_

Sheska slammed down the letter, removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes. Her photographic memory and fast reading made her a prime candidate for following Edward Elric's paper trail, but she felt awful going through his personal letters. It was like trespassing on sacred ground. She knew Edward. He wasn't a killer, even back when his job labeled him as a human weapon.

So far his letters had nothing but admiration and curiosity over Professor Maddox, the dead girl's father. She already knew these letters were a dead end. Whatever was going on, Edward was clueless, at least at the time he was writing.

"Hey Sheska," Havoc poked his head in, and Sheska's head snapped up.

"Lieutenant!" Her stomach jumped. "I'm afraid I haven't found anything yet."

"Well, that's the fun part about investigations," Lieutenant Havoc grinned with his cigarette clenched between his teeth. "The long hours of digging through stupid pointless details."

Sheska made a frustrated attempt at a smile.

Havoc pulled an envelope from his jacket. "Just one more," he assured, placing it gingerly on her desk. "Hang in there."

"Thank you," Sheska forced the words out. Havoc quickly excused himself.

"Ugh." She squeezed her head between her hands. "He probably thinks I'm some pessimistic brat!"

Sheska gave herself a moment to mope and stare at the ceiling. When she returned to her work, she slammed her palm on the envelope and slid it in front of her. Another letter to Alphonse. Imagine that. She opened the letter and started to read. She went back a line and read it again.

Sheska shot out of her seat, knocking it over, and dashed to the next room.

"General, you need to call Furor Grumman!"

* * *

><p>An egg sprayed across the window.<p>

"Oh, my!" Furor Grumman fell back in his seat, and Colonel Armstrong hunched his massive shoulders. The car creeped through the crowded streets of Cretua, Creta's capitol. The driver rolled down his window an inch.

"Oh sod off, the lot of you!" He spat through the crack.

"Don't worry, young man." The Furor grinned. "I never expected to be so popular!"

The driver slid off his cap and scratched his prematurely-balding head. "I just want to do my job...is that too much to ask?" He scowled at the protesting Cretans.

Grumman sighed, straightened his glasses and gazed up at the colonel, who was far too tall to sit comfortably in that car.

"Well," he said. "That was a very lovely ceremony they held for Miss Maddox. The little of it they let us see, that is." He gazed out at the angry crowd.

"You think they would take it as a token of our alliance." Armstrong scowled and bristled his mustache.

"Or as a thinly-veiled ruse," Grumman pointed out. "These people are used to politicians."

The driver harrumphed. "Well, the escort has arrived!"

Sure enough, a small fleet of motorbikes and trucks approached, parting the crowds and opening a way for the car. With that, they made it to Capitol Square in a few minutes. Surrounding the well-designed quad was a series of buildings: the Cretua Chamber, Parliament, the royal palace, the Grand Courthouse, Central of Military Operations, and the Ministerial Office where they planned to meet the Grand Minister Robin Loxley.

None of them could take in what little grandeur still existed in this cramped-up city bloc. What would normally be spectacular national monuments only existed neatly-groomed utilitarian offices. It made sense, however, and not just because of the densely-packed population-the people of the entire Cretua province were a no-nonsense people.

They made it through the ministerial office to the top floor, where Minister Loxley himself waited.

"Ah, Furor Grumman!" Loxley offered the traditional Cretuan sterile smile. Grumman bowed in return.

"Please, sit!" Loxley gestured to the coffee table. "I'll bring some wine. 1892, how does that sound?"

"A very good year!" The creases deepened around Grumman's eyes.

Grumman and Armstrong both took a seat in two matching overstuffed chairs. Loxley poured Grumman and Armstrong's glasses. Grumman raised his with a nod.

"Thank you. My friends back east knew Elric very well. They've done an excellent job investigating much of the situation from their end. In fact, they found some of Professor Maddox's research. What Elric found was some of the professor's lighter, more fascinating work. But we've taken a look at some of Maddox's other theories—those on human chimeras." Grumman raised his eyebrows at the minister.

"You forget, Furor, that every shade alchemy is commonplace here in Creta." Loxley poured himself a glass of wine. "In fact, you don't need to be a 'state alchemist' to be subsidized. I may find it a bit distasteful myself, but I've even let parliament allow human alchemy."

"But I'm sure you don't let all alchemy research out in the open, do you?" Grumman sipped from the glass. "There are some things too good for you to let go. And I'm open to the possibility that poor Mr. Elric stumbled across something he wasn't supposed to."

The minister's young assistant stepped back, and the old man's face turned red. He opened his mouth, hesitated, inhaled, and spoke with a stiff soft voice.

"That's quite an implication, sir."

"As were yours that—what was it again?" Grumman turned to Armstrong, who bit his lip. "Ah yes! That we sent our veteran to murder an impaired girl for no reason and start a war!"

"You know what I meant! Even if he was discharged, he's still your responsibility! My people are in the middle of an economic crisis, and they're smelling blood. If you can't appease us, I don't know if I can stop them from-"

"Well, there's a fine leader!" Grumman stood up and grabbed his coat. "If you can't manage your country, we will!"

Loxley smirked. "Well, it was certainly an informative meeting, Furor."

Grumman smiled uneasily in return before he and Armstrong walked towards the door. "Likewise, minister."

"And I only wish the best for you. But I'm warning you..."

Grumman and Armstrong peered back at Loxley.

Whatever happens," the minister declared darkly, "I wash my hands of it."

**And with that, we'll be moving on to Alphonse next chapter. Hooray!**


	5. Tin Man

_I'll just say it flat out-Alphonse is hard to write. So is Xing when I'm already writing about Creta. It's too much. So I scrapped it and just went in a whole other direction. There, that's why there's been such a delay on this one. Also, since titles are hard to come up with, I'm just using classic rock songs that may or may not fit the chapter content._

**Tin Man**

_Tink Gong Clank Clatter Bang Screech Squeak Ding_

Alphonse couldn't feel his limbs, but he knew their exact position. It was a bad habit he should have shed years ago, but he pinched himself just to be sure he could still feel.

The bell rung outside, wheels squeaked, horse shoes clicked, and the store bell dinged. Inside the tailor's shop, needles whirred. It was nostalgic, fascinating and unsettling, as if Alphonse had blended back into a metal hollow body.

"And what is it I could do for you today, sir?"

Alphonse turned around and opened his mouth, but saw that the woman was actually speaking to the teenage boy in front of him.

She raised her eyebrows halfway up her low forehead and leaned a little too close to the boy. "Say it, and it's yours: A classy three-piece? Or a most emboldening tail coat to impress the boss? Or perhaps you're after a young lady? Only the most heroic armor will suffice-a top hat your helmet, nice big shoulder pads for your jacket-and your Excalibur? Why, only that most exquisite revolver they just put up at the pawn shop two doors over!"

A businesswoman if Alphonse ever saw one.

The boy rolled his eyes and held up a threadbare jacket. "The seam ripped."

"Oh," her face fell, and a brief silence followed before she grumbled, "I'll have it ready tomorrow."

He dumped the jacket on her arms and left.

The young woman stormed behind her desk, threw down the jacket and ripped a scrap of paper from her notepad. "Seam ripped," she muttered, scribbling on the paper and sticking it to the jacket. "Doesn't he have a mother or aunt or other poor old untalented woman to stitch it up?"

Alphonse stepped forward and cleared his throat.

The lady's head popped up. "Oh!" A smile abruptly burst and she tucked a dark strand of hair behind her ear. "Welcome, sir. How can I help you, today?"

"Well, I'm headed to Xing and-"

She gasped and clutched her chest as a beam practically split her face. "You need a wardrobe for the exotic land of Xing? You're a traveler?"

Alphonse tried to smile as distant and politely as he could. "Yeah. I...I don't have a lot of money..."

"Well," The young woman leaned across the desk. "We offer some amazing discounts to suit all budgets, and since Xingese clothing is a rare opportunity, I'll call this a passion project, with a special discount. Especially if we throw a date into the deal."

Alphonse's ears felt warm, and he couldn't tell if it was from the sunburns or not.

"My first date..." his head was swimming. She was pushy and average-looking at best, but she was the first person to give him that kind of attention, and it was like ecstasy.

It would be in three hours. That still gave him enough time to run things over again with Scar, who had finally gained enough approval on both sides to become negotiator between Amestris and Ishval. Instead of going immediately to Xing as expected, Alphonse had unofficially been filling that position for the past year.

He hopped up the stairs to Eastern HQ. A familiar group of uniforms flocked around the front desk.

"Vandalay, Shezka, Kramer," Alphonse nodded.

"Hey Alphonse!" They all casually saluted.

"Hey..." Shezka stammered, pushing up her glasses. "So...what've you been up to this morning?"

Shezka had seemed a little off for the past few days. Alphonse would have chocked it up to Shezka just being Shezka, but Mustang's whole office seemed to be quieter than usual. Was it just that they were sad to see him go?

"Not too much," Alphonse set his briefcase on the front desk. "Reserved a camel, ordered some clothes for the trip and I've started emptying out the apartment."

"Oh, good. Well, we'll miss you!" Shezka's smile looked a little painful.

Kramer snapped his curly head in her direction. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah!" she waved her hand. "Just a little stomachache."

Alphonse scrunched his brows, pulled out the folder he needed and handed it to Vandalay. "Can you give this to Scar for me?"

Vandalay nodded, and scratched his prematurely balding head. "Oh, by the way, you have a visitor!"

Alphonse cocked his head. "Really?"

"Yeah, looked like a Xingese woman. I had her wait up in the lobby," He pointed to the next room.

Alphonse stepped out and descended the stairs down to the lobby. Sure enough, by a statue depicting a carefree Fuhror Gruman, a Xingese girl stood.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, miss." Alphonse trotted over swinging his briefcase. "I wasn't expecting my escort to arrive for a couple more days."

The girls round eyes grew wide. "Alphonse, is that really you? "

Her accent wasn't as thick as he expected. In fact, she looked a little like ...

"Mei?"

This couldn't possibly be the same Mei-Her girlish pudge had given way to womanly curves. She had let her silky hair out of those pigtails to fall below her buttocks. And instead of that pink dress she now wore a pale blue suit. Which Alphonse couldn't help but notice looked a little form-fitting.

"You look a lot healthier since last time I saw you." Indeed, last time she saw him he had just gotten his half-starved body back.

"So do you." Alphonse blurted, and immediately wanted to slap himself across the face.

Fortunately, she didn't seem to hear him. "So when do we want to head out?"

"Well, I'm just waiting for General Mustang to give me a green light, and for my new clothes to get finished."

"Oh, come on!" Mei laughed. "We can get you new clothes in Xing! Just go ahead and ask Mustang, I can't wait to show you around. You won't believe what Emperor Ling Yao-"

"Alphonse."

The pair looked up. General Mustang stood at the top of the staircase. He looked grim.

"Could I see you in my office?"

Alphonse nodded. "Sure, why?"

Mustang hesitated. "...It's about your brother."


End file.
